


Rendezvous

by dentedsky



Category: Dissidia Duodecim: Final Fantasy, Dissidia NT: Final Fantasy, Dissidia: Final Fantasy
Genre: Amnesia, Angst with a Happy Ending, Barebacking, Canon Compliant, Canon-Typical Violence, Enemies to Friends to Lovers, M/M, Nipple Play, Rimming, Romance
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-04-29
Updated: 2019-04-29
Packaged: 2020-02-09 12:54:48
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 13,506
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18638539
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/dentedsky/pseuds/dentedsky
Summary: Firion’s manikins follow Tidus around.The stars themselves are jealous of your smile, for it lights up the world.





	Rendezvous

**Author's Note:**

> So I says to Ren, I says, "I wanna write some firidus porn," and he says "so do it then shrugemoji.jpg" but then I kept listening to power ballads, and angst happened, facepalm le woe.
> 
> So thank you to my cheerleader Ren for encouraging me to wax lyrical about Tidus's ass. And a big thank you to Shookii for the gorgeous digital cover art he did for this fic. My bois, this binch is blessed =*
> 
> This fic was written for Round 8 of the Small Fandoms Big Bang.

 

**Fourteenth Cycle**

The sand was fake.

That was the first observation Tidus made after emerging, slow and dream-like, from the salty sea.

The sand was _fake_.

In a way, it was also real.  Like the intricate weave of lace, his thoughts bloomed and connected together, and he thought: _looks like I’m back here again._

On the shore lit golden by the sun he crouched down and collected the too perfect sand in the palm of his hand, then let it run, day-warm, through his fingers.  The recollections of memories were not sudden or an onslaught like he imagined they would be; instead, remembering was like stepping over uneven rocks and looking into rock pools.  Every pool was unique, had its own treasures hidden deep inside, and the surface reflected his face.

And so, he slowly remembered.  The previous cycles.  Cosmos.  Chaos.

Firion.

Oh, Firion.  How he had made such a mess of that.

As if the very thought of his friend had power, a portal opened a few metres down the shoreline, and two Firion manikins, yellow and golden crystalline, jumped out and walked towards him.

 _I could sure use a weapon right now_ , Tidus thought.

In the sand nearby, the Brotherhood sword and a blitzball appeared.  The corner of his mouth turned up as he grabbed the hilt of his sword and took a fighting stance.

The manikins stopped and openly stared.

“If you’re here, then that means Firion’s here,” Tidus told them with a tilt of his head.  Then he remember something: “…And if the past is any indication, you won’t attack me.” He relaxed.  “Not unless I attack you first, correct?”

One manikin’s eyes widened as he continue to stare.  The other manikin looked to the side thoughtfully.

Tidus kicked the ball into his hand and walked around them.  “Nice portal you’ve got there,” he laughed as he passed.  “Mind if I give it a whirl?”

*

The area on the other side of the portal was a barren, uneven dirt landscape.  He looked around.

In the distance he saw Cecil, Zidane and Firion walking towards a tall tower and his heart skipped a beat.  Taking a deep breath, he dashed towards the group, and although he had not made much sound, they turned at his approach.

“Hey!” Zidane waved enthusiastically.  Cecil gave him a greeting and a nod, and Firion…

Much like his manikins, Firion stood and stared at him with his caramel-brown eyes.  Tidus stopped right in front of him, kicking up dust, and took in the sight of him, all his large, tall, armoured self.  Firion was like warmth and passion and safety and companionship and –

“Well met,” Firion said softly.

Tidus smirked, eyes bright.  “What’s up?”  _I want you to hug me_ , he thought, the feeling of want sudden and sincere.  He kept his face turned up to Firion’s, gaze catching there. 

“I suppose we are meeting at the edge of the world after all,” Firion said softly, fond, and Tidus’s breath caught.

“You remember that, huh?” They’d had a conversation during the last cycle about meeting again.  Although Tidus remembered it well, there was always the possibility Firion would not recall anything, but –

“Our every waking moment spent together…” said Firion.  “I remember it all.”

Tidus’s throat felt dry; he swallowed thickly.  A quiet buzzing was sounding in Tidus’s head: did Firion honestly remember everything?  _All_ of it?  As if from far away Zidane was saying he could remember stuff, and Cecil replied, “I too retain the memories of battles of cycles past.  It would seem what was once lost has now returned.”

“Strange,” said Zidane, rubbing his chin, “I thought for sure they were gone for good.”

“Yeah,” said Tidus, blinking rapidly and rubbing the back of his head.  “I’m glad they’re all back though.”

Firion threw him an alarmed look.  “You are glad of those memories?  Are there none of which you feel regret?”

This confused Tidus.  “…Well, I mean, there were perhaps _some_ situations I could have handled better.  And of course I regret lying to you.  But I don’t regret _remembering_ that I lied to you.”

Cecil looked between Tidus and Firion with obvious curiosity.  “Intriguing.  Of what lies do you speak, pray tell?”

Tidus shot Cecil a look that was half amused, half irritated.  “None of your business.  Except maybe that time you went to go find Golbez and I lied to Firion about it.”

Firion laughed and leaned his hand on his sword hilt casually.  “I saw right through you,” he said in reminiscence.

Tidus smiled back at him.  “That you did.”

“Golbez!” Cecil exclaimed, eyes bright.  “I wonder if he too has been summoned here.”

“Gosh, if Kuja is also here…” Zidane trailed off, grumbling.

In silent agreement the four of them walked toward the tower.  With Firion by his side once more, Tidus was secretly happy to be back even if it meant fighting again.

Yes, remembering was like the slow exploration of rock pools hidden amongst a harsh land, and Tidus remembered.

*

**Twelfth Cycle**

Tidus looked over his shoulder.

Four manikins were following him at a distance, and had been following him for some time, as he walked the route to the emperor’s throne room.  They were all crystalline copies of the same man: tall and handsome, with a strong jaw and intense eyes, equipped with an array of weapons all over his person.  Some had short hair and some had long tied in a neat ponytail at the back.  Tidus thought that if he ever met the original man the manikins had replicated, then he might fall in love with him a little.

He rounded the corner and hesitated when he saw Cloud of Darkness draping themselves over the back of Emperor Mateus’s throne.  They were talking lowly to each other, then stopped as Tidus approached.

He jabbed a thumb over his shoulder at the manikins.  “They yours?  I didn't need an escort.”

The emperor looked past Tidus and something akin to surprise and fear flittered across his face.  “They belong to my past,” he answered enigmatically. 

“Manifestations ruptured from the Void,” said Cloud of Darkness; “pay them no mind.”

The manikins stayed at the edge of the throne room.  Tidus made a conscious decision to ignore them and instead focus on the emperor.  “You wanted to see me?”

The emperor gave him a long, cold look.  “This one?” he asked Cloud of Darkness.  “Are you certain?”

“The likeness of a kingmaker,” they replied.  “Whomever he chooses becomes most powerful.  A guardian of strength and magic.  A culmination of the faithful.”

“And how do I acquire his faithfulness?”

“We know of many ways, as do you.”

“Very well.”  The emperor rose from his throne and Tidus, tense, braced himself against the feeling of immanent danger.  “I will do what needs to be done.”

Tidus’s Brotherhood sword appeared in his hand.  “And what is that exactly?”

Cloud of Darkness summoned a portal and backed into it.  “We leave you.”  The portal closed behind them.

The Emperor watched him with a gaze as cold as death.  “I make no apologies,” he told Tidus.  “You are filled with Chaos’s will, but that is not what is needed.  And so…” he lifted his sceptre.  “Your memories and will must be bent and restructured.”

Tidus scowled at him.  “That sounds painful,” he quipped.

With magical flashes of blue light, the emperor drew a large sigil in the air with graceful waves of his sceptre.  The spell hit Tidus on his side and electrocuted him, but only for a second before he managed to dodge away.

Emperor Mateus raised his sceptre again –

\- Before side-stepping a crystal arrow shot right at him by one of the manikins.

Startled, both adversaries stared at the manikin, whose bow was raised in front of him.  With an angry snarl that hideously twisted his face, the emperor threw a fire ball at the manikin, shattering it on impact.

“Now for you,” the emperor told Tidus.

They fought.

Every time the emperor landed a hit on Tidus, a manikin would attack, and the emperor would counter it and shatter it to pieces. 

“Why are they disobedient?” the emperor hissed angrily.

“Why are _you_ doing this?” Tidus countered, barely paying the manikins any mind.  He was losing this fight even with their help. 

“I need you by my side,” he drawled.

“We are on the same side!” Tidus reminded him.  “Unless… you are against Chaos?”

Emperor Mateus smirked.  “I am on my own side,” he said, before waving his sceptre –

Once again he was interrupted by an arrow, but it was not made of crystal, and it hit true this time: right in the emperor’s arm.  Emperor Mateus yelled in fury and pain.

The man did not lower his bow even as he looked over at Tidus.  “Are you harmed, sir?” he shouted over to him.

This man was so much more beautiful than his manikins that Tidus could only stand stunned for a moment and take it all in.  Long, silver hair tied low flowed over his shoulder, while tousled bangs framed his admittedly pretty face and bright eyes.  His skin was golden-dark, and he was muscular and tall, with long legs and strong arms and thighs.

Tidus blinked out of his stare and smirked flirtatiously.  “It’s Tidus,” he told him, “and good now you’re here.”

The man nodded, satisfied, and dashed at the emperor. Before he could get to him, however, the emperor shot a bright spell at Tidus, sending him flying into the wall, smashing his body into it, making bricks and rubble crash over and around him.

Tidus heard the man call his name, but he’d been half blinded by dust, winded from the impact, and he’d hit his head on a jagged rock.  The last image he saw before darkness took him was the man running to him in panic.

*

When Tidus awoke his head was pillowed on the hard, armour-clad thigh of his rescuer.  Said silver-haired man was asleep, leaning against a section of broken wall.  As Tidus made the effort to sit up, he grunted, pain shooting up his side and his stomach rolling.

The noise and movement was enough to wake his companion, who quickly reached into his knapsack and pulled out a potion.  “Here,” he offered, voice still gravely and deep from just-waking; “I administered what healing I could while you slumbered, but for a full recovery the potion must be imbibed.”

Tidus took the potion with a muttered thanks, and allowed the man to help him sit up.  He drank the whole bottle of potion, head tipped back, and felt his insides knit and heal.  It was some minutes before his nausea subsided and his muscles and bones settled themselves.  Putting the empty bottle on the ground, Tidus asked the man, “So, what’s your name?”

“Firion,” he answered with a soft smile and a polite incline of his head.  “Well met.”

“Likewise,” said Tidus enthusiastically, facing him fully with a bright smile.  Firion seemed to blink a little, like Tidus’s grin had blinded him.  _Good,_ Tidus thought: he was pleased to make new friends that weren’t controlling like the emperor or cunning like Kuja.  Then Tidus looked around: they were within the ruins of a once-great castle that now eroded slowly before their eyes, bits of clay floating upwards to a sky that was an ever-hungry abyss.  Far away enough that Tidus had not noticed but that which surrounded them was a golden circle made up by manikins.  Their golden-crystal make up made them glow in the half-light.

Tidus stood abruptly, sword in hand and turning this way and that, looking at them.  The golden circle of Firion manikins were facing outwards, however, and did not react to Tidus’s sudden alarm.

Firion stood up too, but slowly.  “You needn’t worry yourself, friend,” he said, and Tidus looked at him.  “Since our arrival here they seem to have taken a stoical guard stance.”

Tidus gave Firion a rapid once-over and came to the same mental deduction as he had during the battle with Emperor Mateus: Firion was tall and strong and very good-looking, with the kind of thick thighs that Tidus would enjoy pressed between his own, and a pretty mouth made for kissing and for saying kind words.  Tidus didn’t know if he had a preference for men as he had no concrete memories of his life on his own world, but he definitely felt a strong attraction to this particular man.

“Well if you’re sure…” Tidus smirked at him, lowering his voice a little, trying for flirtatious.

Firion raised his eyebrows and gave Tidus an affectionate look.  “I am certain we do not need to concern ourselves with them at this juncture.”

“Okay!” Tidus grinned at him, then crossed his legs and plopped back down on the ground.  Firion did that thing again where he blinked again rapidly against the force of Tidus’s smile, but there was no fear there, only affection and curiosity.

Firion too sat down cross-legged and faced Tidus, removing the sword belt as he went, taking his time, like he was in no rush to be any place.  Tidus did have a need to leave and find and fight his old man, but Firion seemed a more appealing mission.  “Are you controlling them?” Tidus asked him.

“Pardon my ignorance,” said Firion with a confused look, “but I do not understand what you mean.”

“The manikins are of you,” Tidus explained patiently.  He smirked.  “Not as handsome as the original, though.”

Firion blushed prettily and Tidus’s smirk widened.  “That is quite the compliment; you are certainly bold,” Firion said with a soft laugh.  “But no, I cannot control manikins.  Do you know of someone who can?”

“Nah.  Though I know a couple of guys who would love to have that kind of power.”

“I do not know why these manikins are docile,” Firion admitted with a frown.  “They replicate my appearance and fighting skill… so do they also replicate my personality?”

“So does that mean,” Tidus leaned forward, head tilted, looking at Firion though his lashes, “that it’s part of your personality to follow me around?”

The line between Firion’s brows deepened as he became more pensive.  “We have only just met,” Firion pointed out, “so how could that truth be so?”

Tidus shrugged one shoulder and sat back.  “Maybe you think I’m cute.”

The wide-eyed look Firion gave him was fearful and Tidus felt cold suddenly.  He leaned his elbows on his knees in a non-threatening pose and told Firion straight-up, “Look, if my – “ he gestured between them “is making you uncomfortable, I can stop.”

Firion looked confused again.  “You mean, because you are not wearing a tunic?” he said quickly.  “I wonder if you are cold and should offer you my cloak – “

“No, I mean my flirting with you,” Tidus told him with a small laugh he couldn’t suppress.  Firion was unclipping his cloak from his shoulders.  “That’s not… necessary… um…” Tidus trailed off as Firion kneeled over him and carefully, as if Tidus were a delicate maiden, draped the material over Tidus’s bare shoulders.  He had done it with such consideration and concentration that Tidus’s mouth went dry and his heart ached.  He sat there, speechless, with the warmth and smell of Firion over him.

Firion sat back and regarded him.  Then he said, with care, “It only makes me uncomfortable insofar as I feel shy in your presence.”  He sounded so sincere that Tidus gave him an encouraging smile.  “In truth, I prefer the company of men.”

“Oh,” said Tidus.  Then his smile grew.  “ _Oh._ ”

Firion gave him a shy smile then ducked his head.  “Indeed.”

“Close your eyes,” said Tidus, and when Firion did, Tidus leaned forward and kissed him gently on the corner of his mouth.

It was a silly, childish press of his lips, but it was enough to make his stomach drop and heat pool itself between his legs.  He thought about kissing Firion open-mouthed, force his tongue in, get on top and straddle those incredible thighs, but Firion seemed the type of man who should be romanced slowly, courted with many small gestures, each small moment building into another.

When Tidus pulled away Firion’s eyes were still closed.  When he opened them, he stared into Tidus’s eyes and said, “So blue, like the sky before twilight.”

“So warm,” Tidus countered.

“It would be nice to stay here longer,” said Firion, “rather than go back to Sanctuary.”

Tidus hummed absently; yes, staying here was a very good idea.  Then: “What’s Sanctuary?”

The moment broke.

Firion frowned and leaned back.  The look he was giving Tidus was sharp and cut through Tidus’s love-lust haze.  “It is where Cosmos resides,” Firion told him sharply.

Firion’s sword and sheath were still on the ground next to him.  Tidus glanced at it quickly, as did Firion.  Then Firion reached out a hand –

But it was Tidus’s wrist he grabbed.  Tidus exhaled.  Firion said, “Tell me.  Say it.  I need to hear it.”

“You’re a warrior of Cosmos,” said Tidus in despair.

Firion nodded.

“And I’m on Chaos’s side.”

And there it was.

They were both on the wrong side of the war.

Firion slowly let go of Tidus’s wrist.

Then Tidus grabbed his and pulled him forward and said, gruffly, “Stay with me.”

“I cannot,” said Firion, even as he leaned forward until their foreheads were resting together.

“Just stay with me for a while,” Tidus said so quietly it was almost a whisper.  They closed their eyes, faces close.  “Just – imagine something for me.”

“…As you wish,” Firion whispered.

“Imagine there’s no war, there’s just us, and we’re on a beach.  We’re just walking together, mucking around, putting our bare feet in the cool water, splashing each other.  The sun is setting behind you, it’s making your hair glow gold.  We’re going to sit for a while on the grassy cliff overlooking the sea.  What’s your favourite food?”

“…I can’t remember.  But I believe I may like fruit, plums or grapes.”

“Plums and grapes.  We’ve packed a snack, plums and grapes, and we eat them on the cliff.”

“It’s the edge of the world,” Firion continued for him; “where mine ends and yours starts, or where mine starts and yours ends.  It does not matter which; all that matters is that we always meet there.  We shall always find one another.”

“At the edge of the world.  Yeah, we’ll meet there.”

Faces so close, Tidus felt the flutter of Firion’s eyelashes as he opened his eyes.  “Tidus – “

“Don’t,” said Tidus.

“I must needs be on my way.”

Tidus slowly opened his eyes and gave him a sad smile.  “Don’t ruin it.  Stay longer.”

But Firion was picking up his sword belt and standing up.  “I do not want to fight you.”

Tidus stood up too.  His jaw was clenched.  “I don’t want to fight you either.  Here – “ He pulled Firion’s cloak from around his shoulders and handed it back.  Shoulders cold again, he resisted the urge to rub his own arms. “So you’re going back to Cosmos?” He stepped away and looked into the distance as Firion clipped his cloak back on.  “Guess I’ll go back to the emperor.”

Firion grabbed his arm.  When Tidus looked at him, his eyes were intense.  “I defeated the emperor.”

Tidus snorted.  “Yeah, but the guy kind of has a knack for coming back to life.”

Firion looked alarmed by this.  “If the two of you are on the same side, why did he attack you?”

Tidus shrugged.  “I think he wants to weaken me so he can brainwash me or something, so I can become his loyal servant.”  He shook his head and rolled his eyes.  “Dude is all kinds of crazy.  Anyway I don’t care about that.”  He bounced a little on the balls of his feet.  “My main goal is to find my old man and beat him to a pulp.”

Firion was staring at him, eyes moving over his face as if trying hard to read into his expression and words.  Tidus knew that Firion didn’t really understand, but it wasn’t like he had to: the two of them would either never see each other again, or have to face each other on the battlefield the next time they ran into each other.

Firion’s confused expression was just so cute that Tidus couldn’t help but duck and quickly steal a kiss.  “Good luck with everything,” Tidus told a stunned Firion, walking backwards.  He waved his hand as he turned away.  “Later!”

The manikins turned and followed him, passing Firion by as if he wasn’t even there.

*

Tidus kneeled by a stream and looked at his reflection.  A tired yet bright eyed man with messy blonde hair stared back at him with a kind of undecided hopeful despondence, as if he was trying to ask himself, _Please convince me to go on.  Please convince me to go back!_

“They write whole scripts about that look,” said Kuja.

Tidus whipped his head around to see Emperor Mateus and Kuja standing there, watching.  They must have just come through a portal that Tidus was too absorbed to notice.  He made to get up –

“Stay on your knees,” the emperor drawled.

Tidus did.  There was something in him, now, something that made him not want to fight.  It wasn’t that he had given up, but more that his interest in the parts of his world now had shifted:

He no longer cared.

“That feeling you hold inside you in this very moment,” Kuja said quietly, eyelashes lowered, “poets try so hard to convey.”

“What are you drivelling on about?” said the emperor impatiently.

Kuja looked at him.  “Audiences call for the actors to give them _feeling_.  A pleasant drop of one’s gut, like being taken and churned out to sea.”

Tidus looked down at his hands.  They were fisting the grass.

The emperor said nothing and Kuja sighed.  “Must I use layman’s terms even with you – “

“You call me a layman again and I will flay you – “

“It’s love at first sight,” Kuja snapped, anger and passion making his eyes flare, “there’s power in that.”

“There is not power in a mortal’s fantasy,” Mateus scoffed, “only desipience.”

Kuja gave him a considering look, as if he were seeing the emperor in a new light, and he did not like what he saw.  “Love is one of the strongest magicks.  It cannot be bought, or wilfully gained nor given.  It causes people to change behaviour, to take life, to make life.  No Dispelga can take it from you, once you have it.” Kuja gesticulated.  “Yet we see it before us now, so take advantage.  Watch.”

Kuja turned to Tidus, tilted his head and gave him a look that Tidus guessed was supposed to be sympathetic, but it just looked fake and wrong on Kuja’s face.  “The Rebel,” said Kuja to Tidus, and a fire lit in Tidus’s belly at the title.  “You want to be with him, don’t you?”

Now that Tidus had the will to stand, he did.  “You talk too much.”

“But I know you were listening,” said Kuja, gracefully pushing hair away from his own face.  “He’s on Cosmos’s side, but he can be on ours.  I know you want to be with him.”

Tidus put his hands in his pockets and narrowed his eyes.  “How?”

Kuja shrugged one shoulder coyly while emperor watched Tidus with a cold gaze.  “Chaos must put his will within him,” explained Kuja.  “He either must be dead, almost dead, or willing to take it.”  Kuja stepped forward and into Tidus’s space.  Tidus did not move.  “Do you believe,” Kuja almost-whispered, sultry and sly, “that you could achieve the latter?”

Tidus looked over Kuja’s shoulder at Emperor Mateus, who answered his look with, “I could do with another pawn.”

“So…” Tidus looked at his hand.  He opened and closed his fist a few times while Kuja watched him patiently.  “You think I can bring Firion to our side?”

“Of course,” said Kuja indulgently.  He looked over his shoulder at Mateus.  “That, Your Majesty, is how you gain a loyal servant.”

“We shall see,” said the emperor, looking unconvinced.  He said to Tidus, “If you do not succeed, I will take your life and your will.”  A portal appeared behind him and he backed into it, then he was gone.

Kuja grabbed Tidus’s arm and dug his fingernails in.  “You’ll need to prepare yourself before you go.  Luck is on your side, for I have what you need.”

“What I need?” Tidus muttered as Kuja waved his other hand and a glass bottle appeared in his palm.

“Pure aloe.  The moogles in certain areas sell it.”

“Thanks,” said Tidus uncertainly, slowly taking the object from Kuja’s open palm.  “What am I supposed to do with this?”

Kuja tilted his head.  “You are to make this Firion your lover.  Between two men, lubrication is essential.”

Tidus felt heat flood his face and he fumbled and almost dropped the bottle.  “You’re saying I need to – “

“Prepare yourself before you go,” Kuja repeated, nodding.  “And go you must, for His Majesty is not the most patient and forgiving of lords.”

Tidus held the bottle tight.  “Why - ?”

“You wish to be with him, do you not?”

“Always,” Tidus breathed, then blushed again at his own honesty.  “There’s nothing else in this world I want, except to fight my old man.  But even then, that pales in comparison.”

Kuja looked sad suddenly.  “There’s a battle coming.  A battle that will rend the Chaos warriors into two factions.  We need to be on the winning side, you and I, and while I will continue on alone and lonely, you at least can keep your lover by your side.  There is no escape from this: no curtain falls on our lives in this world.”

“That’s why you’re siding with the emperor,” said Tidus, pocketing the aloe.  “You think he’s going to face Chaos and win.”

Kuja laughed.  “I _know_ he’s going to face Chaos.  If he wins, we need to be in the right place when he does.”

Tidus looked at this cold, lonely, intelligent epicene man, and felt pity.  “You’re not going to be alone.”

Kuja scoffed.  “It matters not.”

*

 _Prepare yourself before you go,_ Kuja had said.

Going to Firion was a slow, hard walk.  It was walk to the death of part of what he knew of himself, and it was a walk to new beginnings.

*

Then Tidus found Firion in the ruins over which clouds darkened everything.  The air was still.  When Firion saw Tidus approach his beautiful eyes widened and he turned to him fully. 

“Tidus,” he said quietly, in surprise.

Tidus gave him a lop-sided smile.  “What’s up?”

Firion hesitated.  “I had thought… perhaps that I would never see you again.”

Tidus shrugged.  “Well, you’re seeing me.”

“Indeed I am.”  Firion marched forward and into Tidus’s personal space, as if he wanted to give Tidus a hug, but refrained and settled for exchanged smiles instead.  The guy was big and tall, with hard armour that hid a hard body.

Already shirtless, Tidus undid his pants.  Firion stepped back a little, alert, as Tidus push his pants down all the way and stepped out of them and his shoes.

“Tidus!  What are you doing?  If we are foes and not friends...”

Now it was Tidus’s turn to step into Firion’s personal space.  “We are foes,” he whispered, before pressing his naked body against Firion’s fully clothed one.  There was something thrilling and sexy about being completely naked, overly vulnerable, while another man was fully clothed and looking down at him with steadily increasing hunger.

Tidus went up on his toes and kissed Firion, opened mouthed and hot.  Firion touched his jaw and tilted his head, aggressively pushing his tongue into Tidus’s mouth.  The warm slide of it made him gasp and moan: that feeling of possession, of a part of Firion _inside_ Tidus lit Tidus on fire, and it was only a kiss.  What if it were his cock in his mouth, instead?  Hot and heavy and salty. Or even more pleasurable would be his cock in his ass, opening him and filling him up. Tidus grabbed Firion’s hand and drew it to his backside, coaxing his fingers to touch the hole between his cheeks –

Firion abruptly pulled away with a huff of breath.  “I wished only to court you.”

“We haven’t got the time or luxury for dates and stuff,” Tidus told him.  “But you could fuck me.  That is one thing we could have.  Anything after that… well…”  He thought about convincing Firion to follow him to Chaos’s lair, and found he could barely imagine it.  “…we’ll cross that bridge when we get to it.”

Firion hesitated, and Tidus took that moment to take his hand again brush his middle finger over his hole.  Pleasure shot through him and he said, “See?  I’m slick: I’ve already prepared myself for you.  You should just take me.”

Mouth pressed in a hard line, Firion pulled away again and removed his cloak and pauldrons, then Tidus helped with the rest of his armour and clothes: breast plate, belt, boots and trousers.  They exchanged heated kisses where they could.  Then, vambraces removed, Firion turned Tidus around, kissed his neck and pressed him up against the nearest wall.  Fingers seeking Tidus’s hole again and pressing slowly but firmly in punched the breath out of him, but forehead to the wall, he tried to relax and let the pleasure of the intrusion, the _ache_ , take him over.  Firion pinched his nipple and kissed his neck, and Tidus squeezed his eyes shut and moaned loudly, unable to keep quiet with so many erogenous zones attacked at once.

Firon stopped playing with his nipple at least, needing both his hands to spread Tidus’s cheeks apart and press his cock slowly in with a grunt.  Firion was large, but Tidus took it and enjoyed it, the whole hard press of him spearing him from behind.  He could feel Firion panting against his neck as he slowly pushed all the way in to the hilt then held them there, Tidus impaled and unable to move, all the pleasure was culminated at the one point where they were joined.  He wouldn’t be able to articulate a thing even if he wanted to; all he could think of was, _yes, yes, mine, yes, more, I love you, yes, fuck, yes!_

Tidus’s hips still in his hands, Firion pulled out a little, slowly, then pushed back in.  A teasingly slow repeat of this had him fucking Tidus with careful leisure, as if to enjoy every second he could get.  The feeling of the head of Firion’s cock dragging through his insides made him want to climb the wall, scrape the bricks with his fingernails.  His own cock had never been so hard, standing upright and leaking.  When Firion started playing with his nipples again, rolling one under his thumb and then pinching the other, he thought he might just cum without his dick being touched, but thankfully he did not, because he really wanted the waves of almost-euphoria to last as long as possible, and he knew he might come down from his high if he came.

As if hearing his thoughts, Firion sucked on his neck and crept one hand around his hip and touched his cock, his thrusts still slow and steady.  Tidus almost cried when Firion started stroking, then grabbed Firion’s wrist.

“Don’t,” he gasped, “Just hold it.  I’ll cum too fast.”

Firion pulled his mouth away and pressed it instead to Tidus’s hair.  “I wish to see your face.”  And with that he slowly pulled out, turned Tidus around and coaxed him gently to lie on the ground, then crawled up between Tidus’s legs.

When Firion pushed Tidus’s legs up and apart, then pushed his cock back into him, he thought, _this is all I have ever wanted_.  Firion over him and inside him while his thick thighs kept him spread.  He was taken over and taken care of, and nothing else and no one else mattered.

Firion started thrusting a little harder and faster, which made Tidus moan and sigh and grab Firion’s hair, bandana falling free.  Sweaty silver bangs partially hid Firion’s eyes, which were intensely watching Tidus’s face, while his long ponytail rested over one bare shoulder.  Tidus tangled his fingers through it while he held onto his shoulders, the push and pull of Firion’s cock inside him a steady slide.

“I – I think I am close to completion,” Firion told him gruffly, before twisting himself down and sucking on Tidus’s nipple.

“O-okay,” was all Tidus could say, getting a hand in between them and fisting his own cock.

Firion abruptly sat up on his knees, grabbed Tidus’s thighs and thrust rapidly into him, nothing slow about their fucking now.  Tidus fisted his own cock with the same speed, and then he felt Firion freeze and cum deep inside him.  He came himself even when Firion was still throbbing in him, shoulders shaking, head bent, breath hot on Tidus’s chest.

When Firion eventually pulled out, he collapsed on Tidus, head pillowed on his shoulder, breaths slowing down.  Tidus felt cum seep out of him a moment later, and he stared at the dark sky above them, stars absent.

He pushed his fingers gently through Firion’s hair in a calming rhythm and prayed for the moment to freeze in time so it would last forever.

*

“We should get dressed,” said Tidus as he picked up his shorts and put them on.

Firion stared at him a moment before he followed suit.  “You are taking your leave?”

Tidus pulled on his shoes and picked up his sword.  This was the moment where he had to lie through his teeth, to fight with his words.  He wanted to tell the truth, he wanted to say, _The Emperor wants you as a slave, and I was supposed to convince you of that.  And while it is very tempting to take you to Chaos and have you changed from foe to ally, I can’t let you.  I can’t let you live the rest of eternity as that sociopath’s slave as I am destined to do, even if that means we can’t be together._

Instead he looked right at Firion said, “Yeah I’m going.  You were a good lay, but I have no interest in this – “ he gestured between them - “happening again.  Ever.”

Firion paused on clipping his thigh guards and stared at Tidus with his big doe-like eyes.  “Tidus, I… It would be a lie to say I am not confounded and… To feel betrayal – “

“You said we are foes, not friends, and you were right.” Tidus stepped close and leaned his face up as if seeking a kiss.  He said lowly, “Don’t follow me.  We will never see each other again.  And if we do, I won’t hesitate to pull out my sword and kill you.”

He stepped back and turned to walk away.

“If we do see each other again,” Firion said quietly, and Tidus stopped to look at him over his shoulder, “I will sheath my sword and drop my shield, and I will face you hands open.  And I hope – “ Firion’s eyes were wet, and Tidus clenched his jaw against his own emotions – “I hope you stab me in the heart, for nothing compares to the pain I feel in this very moment: the pain of my heart slowing breaking.”

“…fuck you,” was all Tidus could say weakly, wetly, like a stupid petulant child.  But he did turn away from Firion, then, and take one, two, three steps away from him.

“I will never give up on you, Tidus,” Firion called after him as he made his retreat.  “If nothing else, that is one thing I can promise you.”

*

Tidus punched a wall and it smashed and crumbled, dust billowing in the wake of its destruction.  Then he crouched, face in his hands, as he tried very hard not to cry, and failed.

“Where is he?” Kuja drawled from behind him.

“I don’t want to talk about it,” Tidus snapped.

Kuja floated over and kicked him.

Tidus didn’t topple over, but it did manage to get his attention.  He glared up at Kuja with bloodshot eyes.  “Hey here’s an idea: fuck off.”

“You have quite the mouth on you,” snapped Kuja, unimpressed, “as I suppose I should expect from -” he gesticulated – “your type.”

“Gay?”

Kuja managed to look even more unimpressed.  “Sports and leisure.”  He watched Tidus stand with an ascertaining eye.  “Where is the rebel?  Why is he not with you?”

“Because I told him not to come,” Tidus said, walking past Kuja and in the direction of Emperor Mateus’s throne room.

Kuja followed him.  “You’re a fool!” he said, distressed.  “My disappointment in you is a palpable stab in my chest.”

“Why do you even care?” said Tidus rhetorically as he rounded the corner and went straight into the throne room.  He strode right up to the emperor and kneeled.  The emperor looked down at him impassively.  “The plan failed,” Tidus told him.  “He has no interest in following me to Chaos’s side.”

“Why are you lying?” said Kuja, from behind him.  “You clearly tumbled him.”

“You are speaking out of turn,” the emperor drawled, his glance at Kuja sharp enough to cut.  “It is clear to me, that as usual, your plan did not come to fruition, and as such, I will take the necessary actions of my previous decision.”

Kuja made a choking noise.

“You can take my memories,” Tidus told Emperor Mateus, “and make me loyal to you.  Could you please just… make it as painless as possible?”

The emperor looked down at Tidus with a kind of almost-affection.  He stood and lifted his sceptre.  “I have taken your wish into account,” he said.

*

**Fourteenth Cycle**

The Goddess Materia had said a lot of things which Tidus planned to ignore.

“Going your own way?” he heard Cloud ask Squall as everyone piled outside.

“Yeah,” Squall drawled.  “You?”

“Always,” said Cloud, and they shared a nod of understanding before walking off in different directions.

“I’m following Squall,” Terra declared. 

“Sounds like a plan,” Lightning said, falling into step with Terra.  She missed the moment Terra’s eyes lit up at that.

“I get the feeling Squall doesn’t want to be followed,” Zidane laughed, waving at Tidus and Firion as he passed.  “By the way, has anyone seen Bartz…?  Hey!  Wait for me - !”

“There’s a quiet feeling within me,” Firion said softly to Tidus, “as if I am glad to be here and see everyone again.”

“They’re our friends,” Tidus agreed.  Then he turned to face Firion fully.  “Listen, Rosebud… I think we need to talk about the stuff that happened two cycles ago.”

Firion threw him a fearful deer-in-headlights look.  “Perhaps.  No, you are correct.  I… need your forgiveness.”

“You…” Tidus blinked rapidly.  “You want _my_ forgiveness?  I’m the one who should be saying sorry.  The way I treated you – “

“Not at all!” said Firion.  “I was in the wrong.  I knew, in some way, that you were not in control, that the emperor had done some kind of magic upon you.”

Tidus was confused as he tried to quickly think back and remember all their exchanges.  “What the hell are you talking about - ?”

“You need not pretend ignorance.  Please, Tidus.  What I did to you, what we did… I was in the wrong, and I only wish…” He looked at Tidus desperately.  “We were good friends in the last cycle,” he continued, “and I would like for us to persist with that friendship.”

Tidus was speechless.  He had wanted to say, before Firion cut him off, that he would like for them to start over, but not quite like this.  Sure, he had stuffed up by saying mean things to Firion after they had slept together, but he had hoped they would have gotten past that, that Firion would keep his promise to never give up on him, to maybe try kissing again, being together, or just…

But it wasn’t that easy.

It would never be that easy, not with them.

Firion’s request did not make a lot of sense, but what Tidus did understand was the desperate need for them to be friends again, for them to get back to a kind of stability where they weren’t awkward around each other.  In Tidus’s opinion, that meant actually talking about what had transpired between them, but it seemed that Firion rather leave it behind and forget.

Firion made an aborted move toward Tidus, as if he meant to grab his shoulders, but cancelled at the last second.  “Please forgive me.”

“I forgive you,” Tidus told him, because he knew Firion needed to hear it.  “Although I reckon you don’t need it; you didn’t do anything wrong!”

“I only wish for our friendship to stay intact.”

“Of course it’s intact, you big idiot.”  Tidus laughed in a way he really didn’t feel, and gave Firion a friendly pat on the shoulder.  “Let’s go; we’re like the only two people left here.”

Ahead, he saw the new guy follow the Warrior of Light and Cecil.  Unspoken, Tidus and Firion walked off on one road, the rubble of a long gone city lining their path.

Tidus put his hands in his pockets.  “My old man was there with Spiritus.  I saw him.  If he’s there, I don't care what that girl wants; I won’t fight.”

Firion paused and looked at him sadly.  “And here I thought it was over.”

*

**Thirteenth Cycle**

The beach was lined with wild grass and steep hills, but the sand was warm and white and soft, the breeze salty and good, and Tidus breathed it in deep through his nose.  He strode on ahead a little, barefoot and boots swinging from the laces he held, Firion behind him taking his time, watching the ocean waves, probably.

Though when Tidus turned to look behind him, Firion was watching _him_.

“You know what would be so cool?” said Tidus conversationally.  “If you came with me to my world, or me to your world, and we found a place like this, and just like… had a picnic or something.  Lazy days, no fighting to do, just waiting for the magic of the sunset.”

Firion laughed and gave Tidus one of his affectionate looks.  “It’s as if you speak of romancing someone.”

Tidus suppressed his urge to flirt; even if he did entertain the thought late at night of kissing or dating Firion, he would never act on it: Firion was just a friend.

He liked the idea of a modern Zanarkand with Firion in it.  Maybe they would have a date, go to the movies, out to dinner, go back to Tidus’s apartment… but all that imagination and wishing was in his head, where it would stay.

Tidus pulled a face at Firion, walking backwards.  “Nah, man.  I mean getting some beers, sitting on a rug with some snacks – “

“Plums and grapes,” said Firion thoughtfully.

A strange rush of déjà vu came over Tidus.  “What did you say?”

Firion was looking a little perturbed himself.  He tilted his head as if thinking hard.  “I do not know how I came across such a thought, and yet it is here,” he tapped his head, “in my mind.  Plums and grapes.”

Tidus waggled his finger at him.  “I know, right?  I have this weird feeling like we’ve talked about this before.”  He stopped and let Firion catch up with him.  Together they buried their feet in the sand and looked out to sea.  “Okay I have an idea.  Let’s say if we ever get separated, an ocean or a world between us, and we need to find each other...  Let’s promise each other that we’ll see each other again at the edge of the world.”

Firion glanced at him.  Then he was nodding.  “The edge of the world… or, of the worlds?”

Tidus shrugged.  “It’s a little dumb, but humour me.  Say that there’s going to be nothing left of our worlds or… nothing left of me.  If we wish to see each other again one more time, we meet somewhere just like here, like a beach or something.  It looks like the edge of this world… okay, I’m not sure I know what I’m saying.”

But Firion was giving him that affectionate look again, like he truly enjoyed indulging Tidus in his whims but was trying to hide it.  “As you wish,” Firion said.  He nodded solemnly.  “I hereby promise to meet you at the edge of the world.”

Tidus grinned at him.  “Me too.  I promise too!”

“Tidus…” Firion looked at him seriously.  “Please do not say there will be nothing left of you.  It pains me to hear it.”

Tidus had never told Firion what he was starting to suspect: that he himself was not real but a manifestation of dreams.  He didn’t have all his memories so he couldn’t confirm it for sure, but it seemed that he was not human like Firion or the others.  Was he only a dream, or something just as non-corporeal?  Exactly how ‘real’ was he and did he have less of an existence?

Tidus believed himself to be talented in two things: blitzball, and pretending everything was okay when it wasn’t.  So he threw Firion a lopsided grin and said, “Sure, Rosebud, you and I will live forever.”

“Until we are old and grey, here’s hoping,” Firion said with a little eye-roll.

*

**Fourteenth Cycle**

“If that baby’s going to drag us into his tantrum...” Jecht said before he, Tidus and Firion ran into the brawl.

Earlier, Tidus and Firion had been forced apart when Kefka had kidnapped Tidus and Exdeath, only to lose Shantotto shortly after being reunited.  It had been an action-packed, soul-stirring day, and it didn't seemed to be getting any calmer.

Now, on Besaid Island, Tidus seemed to have a natural advantage against Ultimecia and Kefka, but in the end it was Kefka that gave him the most trouble: he called down light and darkness and in that moment Tidus was frozen and confused and in a dark cloud.

Through the disorientation, Tidus saw Firion leave Exdeath and dash over to Kefka.  He could not be sure of the actions and words next said, but what he recalled was this:

Firion grabbed Kefka by the neck with one hand and lifted him.  Kefka choked, eyes bulging out, then laughed through his constricted throat.

“It was only a little spell,” Kefka chuckled.  “Or several little spells.”

“Remedy him now,” Firion growled up at him.  With Kefka still held aloft, Firion pressed the tip of his sword to Kefka’s chest and Kefka’s face changed to something sinister.

“I will do no such thing,” said Kefka, low.  “Look at you – at the fire and the anger in your eyes.  That delicious, delicious ire and destruction.”  He grinned, blood on his teeth.  “You love him, and that love has made you _violent._ ”

Firion stared at him and said, “Then I am the personification of violence.”  And then he tossed Kefka into the shallow waters like a ragdoll.

Tidus’s haze was leaving him.  Kefka glared up at Firion.  “Don’t mess with me,” he warned, voice low.

Firion ignored him and turned to Tidus as he ran up.  “Are you harmed?”

“Nah,” Tidus grinned, inwardly shaken at what he’d just seen and heard; Firion loved him?  “Never better.”

Leviathan the great sea goddess took that moment to rear her ugly head.  With three enemies, the planesgorger eating Besaid, and now Leviathan, Tidus, Firion and Jecht truly had their work cut for them.

“Aw man,” Tidus murmured.

A few metres away, Jecht asked Ultimecia and Exdeath, “Will you help us?”

“If we must,” Ultimecia drawled.  Exdeath hummed non-commitedly.

“Leave this to us,” Tidus told Firion; “Dad and I are kind of really good in the water.”

Firion gave him a fond look.  “I don’t doubt it.  I will support you from behind.”

Tidus wanted to make an innuendo-laden joke about that, but he was stuck for time.  While and he and Jecht met in the middle of the shallows then ran for Leviathan, Firion dashed up the cliff and cast a series of lightning spells.

Tidus and Jecht dived under water, following Leviathan like they were hunting a big fish.  When the goddess would surface, so would they, and Firion and Ultimecia would attack with spells.

And then in only a moment, Tidus saw Kefka climb up the cliff behind Firion, spin in the air and stab him in the back with his blade-sharp wings.  They went all the way through Firion’s abdomen, blood bursting outwards.  Then he was pushed off the cliff, and falling, and falling, and splashing into the water, and under.

Tidus gasped out Firion’s name, then swam over and dived in after him. 

Firion had sunk fast, blood blooming like red clouds from his body as he sank.  In the deep not too far away, Leviathan twisted and swam against Jecht’s onslaught of attacks.  But Tidus only had eyes for Firion in that moment, his silver hair undulating and his eyes closed.

Tidus caught him around the waist and swam up with his heavy burden.  When they broke the surface, Tidus dragged him to the shallows and the sandy shore and laid him down, pulled away his armour and checked to see if he was breathing.

He wasn’t.

Tidus touched his face before getting a hold of himself, of his panic, and kneeled  over him to start compressions. 

Jecht came over just as Tidus had finished giving him mouth-to-mouth and was restarting the next set of compressions.  “I need him to wake up, dad,” Tidus told him.  “I need him to wake up.  I don’t – I don’t know what I would do if – “

Jecht placed Leviathan’s summon crystal on the ground as he knelt by Firion.  He faced Tidus and put a hand on his shoulder, though Tidus did not stop compressions.  “He means a lot to you, huh?”

Tidus leant over Firion and fitted his mouth over his, and blew.  When he was done, he started compressions again and told Jecht, “Yeah he means a lot to me.  And you can call me names – a sissy or a crybaby or whatever – but it won’t matter.  I just – I love him.  He’s not mine, but I’m his, and I don’t know…” He sniffed.  “I don’t know how our story is going to end.”

“Well damn,” said Jecht, hand falling from Tidus’s shoulder.  After his next mouth-to-mouth, Jecht took over compressions and Tidus went back to looking at Firion’s cold, now pale, face.  His skin was usually so golden and healthy, but now it looked ghostly, and Tidus could barely stand it.

Tidus pressed his forehead to his.  “Just wake up, okay?” he whispered.

Then Firion coughed, eyes open, water gurgling in his throat as he rolled over and expelled the water from his lungs.  He dragged in painful, hefty lungfuls of air.

Tidus hugged him, position awkward.  “You’re okay!”

“Just on the cusp, I’m afraid,” Firion croaked.  “Help me stand.”

Tidus and Jecht helped him up onto his feet, then Tidus lifted his armour and helped him into it.  Firion looked at the crystal in Jecht’s hand.  “Seems I was of little help.”

Jecht waved him off.  “I don’t need help from a couple of kids.  Not that the rest of you did a hella lot,” he added to Ulitmecia, Exdeath and Kefka.

Ultimecia glared at them and Exdeath crossed his arms.  “You especially,” Tidus snapped at Kefka.  He reluctantly pulled away from Firion.  “I should pummel you into the ground - !”

Around them Besaid Island was disintegrating, being eaten by the planesgorger.   “There’s no time for arguing, kid,” Jecht interrupted, sounding a little exasperated.

Kefka laughed and stepped back.  “Toodle-oo!” he waved, before flying into a portal.

“Vanish along with this world,” Ultimecia said, with irritation.  She too, left.  Tidus, Jecht and Firion ran for the next portal.  Firion jumped in, but Jecht hesitated.

Tidus paused.  “You’re not coming?” he asked him.

Jecht scratched his head in the way he usually did just before a lie.  “Uh... Should take a look around first.”

Tidus desire to fight his father was long gone, and besides which an even heavier conversation lay beyond the portal.  He had chased his dad around whole worlds for so long, sought out his ire and attention, and yet it would all end here, like this, exhausted and defeated, while the planesgorger was eating up what was left of all that strange fake sand.

“All right,” said Tidus.  “Well... see ya around.”

“Yeah,” said Jecht, his red eyes dark and proud.  “See ya later.”

They low-fived, and then Tidus turned and left.

**Twelfth Cycle**

The Brotherhood clashed with the Buster.  Tidus backflipped away from the next swing of Cloud’s great sword, then summoned his blitzball and threw it.  It hit Cloud hard in the chest and bounced off and over the side of the mezzanine wall.

Ultimecia’s castle had many levels, all connected by a long, winding staircase.  Tidus moaned in despair as he watched his ball bounce down storey after storey of stairs.  He looked over his shoulder at Cloud.  “We can finish our spar in a bit; gotta go catch it.”

“We should probably stick together – “ Cloud told him without much commitment, sword leaning casually on his shoulder, but Tidus was already on his way, sliding down the rail, round and round. 

 _Woo,_ he thought as he slid down, wind whipping his hair, _this is pretty fun!_

When he got to the bottom he did a forward flip off the rail and landed gracefully, half-crouched, his ball right in front of him, under someone’s boot.

He looked up at the man through his blonde fringe and was about to ask for his ball back –

“Tidus,” he man said, breathless with surprise.

Tidus blinked up at him for a moment, then stood up straight.  The guy was tall and beautiful, with grey-silver hair despite seeming quite young, perhaps his own age.  “Do we know each other?” said Tidus.  “Because there’s no way I would forget someone as pretty as you.”

This made the man blush, and stammer, “Mine own name is Firion.”

“Firion.” Tidus smiled at him flirtatiously.  “Mind if I have my ball back?”

“Your - ?  Oh.”  Firion looked down at where he was still balancing the ball under one foot.  He let it go with a gentle kick, and when it reached Tidus, Tidus effortlessly kicked it up into his own hands then rested it under one arm.

His other hand he ran through his hair.  “So Firion, you uh, come here often?”

Firion looked puzzled by the question just as another armoured man with silver hair approached him from behind.  “This is not a place I would frequent, no.”

His friend pulled his sword from its sheath.  “A warrior of Chaos,” the man accused, watching Tidus with hard eyes as he stopped to stand by Firion’s side.  “Do you not see his aura of darkness, comrade?”

Cloud slid down the bannisters and jumped down next to Tidus, his sword also drawn.  “I do not see it,” Firion told his comrade, “I have never seen it.”

“Oh, we’re on different sides…” Tidus murmured with disappointment.  He didn’t know why, but he felt very attracted to Firion, and it felt deeper than merely finding him hot.  “Well that sucks.”

“I guess we’ve got to fight,” Cloud said, sounding about as enthusiastic as Tidus felt.  But Cloud ran at Firion’s friend, and then the two of them were off, swords clashing, moves dodged and parried, magic cast and blocked.

Tidus looked at Firion, at his bright, brown eyes and the resolute, hard press of his mouth, and sighed.  “Let’s get this over and done with – “

“I decline,” said Firion, and with that he dropped his shield and kept his sword sheathed and the bow and lance on his back.  “I made a promise to you that should we meet again I would keep my hands open.”

“So we _have_ met,” said Tidus, scrutinising Firion.  “Are we from the same world?  I don’t remember much…”

Firion chuckled darkly.  “We are of separate worlds.  We last spoke less than a fortnight past.”

Something dark and sinister was culminating at the back of Tidus’s mind, like trepidation.  Like fury.  “That’s not poss – “ _Possible?  But of course it’s possible, idiot_ , he thought to himself.  Suddenly, Tidus found it so hard to breathe he couldn’t talk.

Firion stepped closer and touched his shoulders.  “Tidus, speak to me.”

“I can’t remember anything,” Tidus told him quietly.  “It’s any wonder I can remember my own name."

Cloud landed on the platform next to him, hard, after having been fighting the other Cosmos warrior mid-air.  He threatened Firion with his sword.  “Hands off!”

“Don’t,” Tidus told Cloud.  “I think he means well.”

Firion didn’t seem to take offence at Cloud’s actions; instead he asked him, pleadingly, “What happened to Tidus?”

The other warrior joined them.  “Our fight must continue,” he declared.

“I’m not fighting anyone today,” Firion told him sternly.  He turned back to Cloud and gave him a pleading look.  As did Tidus.

Cloud’s eyes flicked between all three of them.  Then his shoulders sagged resignedly.  “The emperor took your memories,” he informed Tidus, with quiet sympathy.

Tidus blinked rapidly, trying to think.  He gave Cloud an incomprehensive look.  “Why?”

Cloud shrugged.  “I don’t know, maybe you pissed him off?  Kuja wasn’t very forthcoming with the details.”

The Cosmos warrior sheathed his sword.  “Many of us have lost memories to this realm.  I do not remember mine own name, and in time you too will forget these words spoken.  It matters not.”

“It _does_ matter!” Firion burst out at him.  “Memories are more precious than any crystal, more substantial than gold or gil.  It’s what makes us who we are and defines our relationships - !”

“What defines us is our quest for the light and the goddess’s will.”

Firion shook his head.  “That is not all that matters.  If it were, we may as well be the mindless pawns the emperor accuses us as being.”

“I’m leaving,” Cloud told Tidus, and he turned and started the slow trek back up the stairs.

Firion was staring at Tidus again.  Tidus cocked a thumb over his shoulder at Cloud.  “I gotta go… I’m with this guy, so… was nice to meet you… again?”

Firion strode forward and abruptly pulled Tidus into his arms and held him.  “Forget me not,” he whispered into Tidus’s hair, “for without our shared memories we are doomed to walk this world forevermore as soulless as dolls.”

Then he stepped back.

Tidus, now feeling cold and bereft of Firion’s nice, warm hug, could only nod dumbly.  “I… okay.” He turned and walked back up the stairs.

When he got to the top, Cloud was waiting for him.  “Should we continue our training?” Cloud asked.

Tidus stared at him a moment, then ran his hand through his hair.  “What… happened to me?”

“I don’t know,” Cloud told him, with pity.

Tidus nodded slowly.  So the emperor had taken his precious memories.  What did it matter now?  There was a good chance he was never getting them back.  “Okay,” he said eventually, “let’s spar.”

*

**Fourteenth Cycle**

Tidus emerged from the portal and into a barren wasteland of dirt and uneven ground.  He looked around himself before settling his gaze on the only other person to be seen.

Firion stood with his back to him, though his face was in profile, expression disheartened.  There was something so lonely about him, even as he seemed indisputably full of power and strength.  Tidus asked him, “Are you okay?”

Firion turned to him abruptly with a hard fire in his eyes, then strode to Tidus, cupped both his cheeks and kissed him.

Tidus let out a small, surprised noise at Firion’s fervent, open-mouthed kiss.  It was like relief, like getting his breath stolen.  Firion wound one arm around Tidus and pulled their bodies so close that Tidus’s back arched and Firion was over him –

Abruptly, it was taken away.  Firion let him go and stood back a step, and Tidus was left breathless in the wake of Firion’s passion.  “What – “

“I cannot,” Firion uttered in despondence.  “I cannot… take from you again, even if my very soul if full of want.”

Tidus, still breathing heavily, wanted to scream and rail.  “Why not!”

Firion seemed regretful in his despair.  “Hurting you brings me pain thrice over.”

“Then just – “ _stop hurting me!_ Tidus wanted to say, but scrubbed his hands over his face instead.  “Okay, you and me – we need to get some communication going.”

Firion looked at him with some hope.  “Communication?”

“Yeah, it’s this thing where two people open their mouths and talk to each other,” Tidus quipped.  He stepped forward.  “Look, I’ve kept things from you, and I know you find it difficult to talk to me but let’s just… try?”  When Firion nodded his ascent, Tidus was a little lost for words for a moment; where could he even start?  But then he remembered there was something he had always wanted tell him, but could not quite recall the memory that would hold the evidence.  Now he had all his memories, so he confessed, “I’m just a dream.”

There was predictable confusion on Firion’s face, but then it seemed to flicker into a kind of inner realisation.  “A dream?”

“Yeah, I’m not real,” Tidus told him with a twist of his mouth.  He gesticulated at himself.  “I was manifested from dreams.  Weird and kind of hard to explain, but I thought you should know.  I never told you until now because even during the last cycle I couldn’t quite remember.”

Firion was facing him properly now, his eyes scanning Tidus’s face.  “I always held my dreams close to my heart,” Firion confessed, “and yet the prospect of confessing them to you brought upon me a great feeling of embarrassment.”

“I know about your dreams for perpetual peace, man,” Tidus told him.  “It’s not embarrassing.”

Firion’s eyes shone.  “I have a new dream, now.”

Tidus raised his eyebrows.  “You mean me?”  Tidus felt himself smile for the first time in hours.  “Yeah, you’ve got me.”

And then to Tidus’s frustration, Firion’s expression closed off.  “No, I do not.”

Tidus’s sudden anger made him shove his hands through his hair and spin in a circle.  He wanted to punch something but there was nothing around.  “What is your deal?” he shouted at Firion, who hunched his shoulders.  “No wait, I think I get it.  We’re from two different worlds, right?  Hardly, what, _destined_ for each other.  That’s it, right?  We’re not fated, not soulmates, just a regular guy and a dream made real, our dialects and the places we come from so different we can barely understand each other – “

“You do not know – “ Firion protested.

“Don’t know what?  That we can’t understand each other?”

“That we’re not fated,” said Firion, face flushed.  “The gods themselves brought us here, so to say we are not fated to meet – you do not know destiny’s truth.”

“Then what is going _on_ with you, man?” Tidus shouted at him.  “I love you - !”

Tidus was cut off by a sudden gust of wind that transformed the whole dead scenery to a bright, wild field of flowers.  Panic still in his system from the surprise, Tidus turned around to take it all in, mouth agape. 

Firion too looked disconcerted.  “Whose memories could manifest such a place?”  Then he looked at Tidus with regret.

Tidus waited patiently for Firion to say his piece.

Firon stepped forward and took Tidus’s hand.  “My love for you is boundless, Tidus,” Firion confessed.  Tidus swallowed down the lump in his throat and gazed into Firion’s eyes.  “The stars themselves are jealous of your smile, for it lights up the world.  How can a mortal so insignificant as myself be worthy of the sun?  I have had thoughts many a time of taking you upon a bed of rose petals, but then I think that is not enough, and would build you a castle of roses, a throne of roses, below which my display of reverence would be undying.”  He blinked several times as if fighting back tears, then said, voice low, “I know the emperor had some magical influence over you the night you came to me.  And so I cannot in good conscience do as I did that day, take you with coercion and without your consent.”

Tidus, whose heart had at first swelled at Firion words, ( _build a throne of roses? The stars are jealous?_ ) now blinked rapidly in confusion.  He tilted his head.  “Wait a minute… you think you _raped_ me?  You didn’t rape me Firion, oh my god!”

Firion’s hand squeezed his tightly.  “The emperor – “

“Didn’t even want me to do it!  I may have not had my memories back then, and yeah I may have seemed a little brain-washed, I get why you might have thought that; but trust me when I say this: I wanted us to sleep together.  I went to you with that purpose of my own free will.  I wanted you to fuck me, alright?  I did then – “ Tidus pushed his whole body into Firion’s space – “and I still do.”

Firion didn’t move away and the hot press of his body was making Tidus hard.  Firion kissed him again, hand on his jaw, slow and indulgent.   Again the thoughts came to Tidus, of another time, another world, perhaps, of them going out to dinner, eating at a fancy restaurant or even just a street place, noodles and beer, then seeing a movie after, something trashy that thankfully didn’t need much concentration because Tidus would be preoccupied with the press of Firion’s thigh against his own, with their hands edging toward the other’s and just brushing.  Or Firion could do that cliché thing when he would yawn and put his arm around Tidus’s shoulders, and Tidus would try not to laugh even as he curled himself into Firion’s side, fitting just nicely.

Now, Tidus ran his hands up Firion’s armoured body.  He pulled his mouth away from Firion’s to say, “Maybe you’re right about fate.  I thought the last cycle was the last time I would exist, the last time we would see each other.  But it seems that we’ve been given another chance.”

Firion smiled in agreement, pushing a blonde strand of hair from Tidus’s forehead.  “The twelfth cycle we were foes; the last, friends.  Now…”

“We can finally be together.” Tidus smiled.

Firion frowned.  “The planesgorger’s insistence on leaving their scorched mark upon this world…”

“Yeah, we have to defeat them, else they may try to eat other worlds.  But not right now.”  Tidus kissed him again.  “We might not have much time left together as it is.”

They pressed their foreheads together and closed their eyes, just like they had so long ago.  “Our time together has been so fleeting yet precious,” said Firion.  “Let me make love to you, so that I can remember every part of you, and commit to memory the chorus of your soul.”  He reached into Tidus’s open shirt and cupped his pectoral, and brushed his gloved thumb over his nipple.  Tidus gasped into their next kiss, wet and open, Firion’s tongue a strong, hot presence in his mouth.  Firion pressed his other arm to the small of Tidus’s back to pull him against him, while the other continued to play with his chest.  It seemed Firion was a tits and ass kind of guy, which suited Tidus just fine, since he was already imagining the prospect of getting on his knees, permitting Firion to slide his glorious cock into his mouth, letting it sit there, heavy on his tongue.

Or perhaps he would prefer to be taken from behind again, although this time –

“I don’t have lube,” Tidus mumbled into Firion’s mouth, saddened.  Firion pulled his mouth away from his, Tidus’s discontented expression mirrored in his own.

“Perhaps we should leave this for another day – “

“Like _hell_ we are,” said Tidus emphatically.  Firion was cupping both of Tidus’s pectorals now, playing with his nipples and chest.  Heat rising to his face and his groin and all the right places, Tidus told Firion, “I’m strong enough to take it.  We’ll figure something out.”

“We must not cause each other pain whenever it can be helped,” Firion said, frowning.  “If I am to have one rule, it would be this.”  Then he looked thoughtful.  “Take off your clothes, and lie down on your front.”

A shiver ran down Tidus at the command.  _Oh fuck yes_ , he thought, taking off his jumper-jacket, then practically ripping off his pants and shoes with one big swoop.  The ground was covered in flowers, soft in the same way they were unreal.  They were fake like the sand of Besaid, and felt indulgent like material; and so, it was easy for Tidus, already hard, to lie down on his stomach and rest his head on his folded arms.

Firion knelt between the V of Tidus’s legs, and took off his gloves, pulling them off finger by finger.  He was still clothed, which seemed to be a kink they both liked.  Firion put his fingers in his own mouth, then placed his spit-licked fingers to Tidus’s hole and pushed one inside.

Tidus’s breath was punch out of him at the press.  Eyes closed tightly, he gasped in air in small gulps as Firion bent down and lapped at Tidus around his own finger.  It was an experiment, but it felt like a tease.  With a satisfied noise, Firion pulled out his finger, used both his thumbs to spread Tidus’s cheeks, then put his mouth _there._  

A warm, wet tongue lapped at his hole.  Tidus felt Firion’s nasal breaths against the skin above as he took the time to make Tidus good and wet.  Tidus felt a tingling under his skin, and a moan escaped him as Firion pushed his tongue inside.  Much like the rest of him, Firion’s tongue was strong and hot yet so gentle, like Tidus was special and dear, but also something edible, an entity of which Firion wished only to consume with every moment that they spent together.  Firion’s tongue pulled out, then back in, then out again to swirl around the shuddering clench of him.  Tidus thought about how Firion was good with words, could talk about life and love and dreams, and how in comparison Tidus felt his own expressions were basic and stilted.  To be like Firion was to wear his heart on his sleeve, and yet here Tidus was, lying on his front, feeling shattered and broken and put back together, and shattered again, all because of Firion’s mouth on him.  How could he begin to even explain to the man he loved, that his heart was bursting, that he could feel the world tilt on this moment and he was about to fall off its edge?  He bit his own fingers on a moan, and thought about getting Firion’s cock in him, somehow, despite not wanting Firion’s mouth to stop, ever.  Wouldn’t it be wonderful if they weren’t in this warzone, if they were just _them_ , lying in a field of perpetual peace, and Tidus would lie on his front and let Firion just play with his ass all day?  Just the two of them, Tidus being owned by Firion, his plaything, slick fingers driving him to the edge of pleasure and back.

Tidus could never think such things, not consider ever doing such kink with anyone else.  For Firion, he would, because Firion was so loved, and so trusted.

Tidus drew in a breath and opened his eyes and told Firion, “I want to suck you,” which was about getting Firion’s dick wet, but also because his mouth was watering at the thought.

Firion stood and took off his armour and clothes, and Tidus kneeled.  Firion wasn’t even fully naked when Tidus moved forward and took his cock in his mouth, the large, hardness of him, salty and sweet and smooth.  He made the conscious decision to relax his gag reflex and take _all_ of Firion in, right down, and the man above him clutched his hair and groaned his name.

Tidus gently pulled his head away and Firion’s cock came out.  “Don’t come too fast,” Tidus told him; “I need you to fuck me.”

“ _God,_ ” Firion gasped, “your _mouth_ ,” which could have meant how good it felt, or the swearing.

Firion sat on the ground.  Knowing that Firion like to look at this face, Tidus climbed onto those glorious thighs, let Firion’s hands on his ass cheeks spread him and guide him to sit on his cock, the head going in easily with the slick they’d created, followed by the rest of him.  The stretch was incredible, but their gazes locked together was what really had Tidus gasping: the adoration in Firion’s eyes.  He slowly slid down Firion’s cock till he was flush, and then he was impaled completely, like he was a sheath, unable to move.  Sweat dripped down Firion’s temple, and Tidus leaned over and licked it away.

Firion started minute thrusting of his hips, as if he couldn’t help himself.  A look of guilt flashed across his face, and Tidus touched his cheek to say, _it’s okay, you can move now.  You can fuck me hard, or you can fuck me slow.  You can go deep and long, or shallow and short.  Whatever you choose, I will like it_.  With a groan deep in his throat, Firion dug his fingers in and guided Tidus to lift up then sink back down again.  _Deep and long it is, then_ , Tidus thought with a shudder.  _Good choice._

Firion’s guttural groan reverberated through his body and Tidus felt it as if it was passing from Firion to him.  As Firion thrust deep inside him and panted wetly against Tidus’s cheek, Tidus thought, _what if you and I could stay here forever, and not go home._

_…you and I could stay here forever and not go home…_

_…stay here forever…_

_…what if…_

_Stay…_

And being taken over by Firion was as if he were writing scripture on Tidus’s heart, curving long lines of love: the stars are jealous, the stars are jealous, they stare at us with their bright eyes, you and I in our castle of roses.

Then Tidus searched for Firion’s mouth and demanded he kiss him; perhaps he said it aloud against lips gone slack with desire, perhaps he said it only in his head and Firion heard it anyway.  Either way, they kissed, wet and open, deep and hot, Firion’s brow creased as if the pleasure of having all of Tidus was just this side of too much.

Firion crept his hand between them, and touched Tidus’s cock.

It was only a few moments later when Tidus came, clenching down on him, mouth having moved down to mouth at Firion’s shoulder.  His orgasm was like shooting into the air, flying to Heaven.  Within his own mind he heard a cacophony of sound, his own internal ecstatic screaming.

He passed out.  When he came to, Firion had come inside him and his cum was starting to leak past the place they were joined.  Firion’s shoulder was a similar mess: Tidus’s drool glistening on his skin, a drop of it sliding down his pectoral.

“Wow,” Tidus said eventually.  Their panting was slowing to even breaths.  Tidus thought about the way they smelt in that moment, and wondered if he could commit that smell to memory.

“Indeed,” said Firion.  “Perhaps we ought to practice this every day.”

Tidus laughed breathlessly.  Then he felt sad.  He said quietly, “If we even have days.”

Firion held him close.

*

It was Bartz who made the connection between the planesgorger and Shinryu.

Tidus and Firion had taken the long road back, holding hands, talking, kissing occasionally.  When they finally met up with some of the others, they compared summon crystals.  Vaan begged to see theirs, and when Tidus handed it over, Vaan hummed and haa’d, then sniffed it and said it smelt like seafood.

“Seems I’ve let the cat out of the bag,” Bartz was saying, looking restless while next to him Cloud was stoic and unperturbed.  “or the dragon out of the treasure chest in this case, but that has less of a ring to it.”

Zidane set his wide blue eyes on him.  “I doubt it's your fault,” he told him.

“He’s right,” Terra agreed.  “Shinryu has been gorging on this world for cycles.”

Bartz looked relieved but not entirely convinced.  He exchanged a glance with Cloud, who said, “We’re to meet Spiritus and his warriors on the battle field.”

“Really?” Tidus exclaimed.

Cloud nodded.  “This is it.”

“Our final stand,” Firion agreed solemnly, and gave Tidus’s hand a squeeze.

Then Firion walked over to Lightning and summoned his wild rose into the palm of his hand and held it out to her.

Eyebrows raised, she looked from him to the rose.

“You wished for it back,” he reminded her softly.  Jealousy was a pang in Tidus’s heart as he watched Firion pass the rose over the Lightning.

She stared down at it.  “Thank you.  Are you sure you don’t need it?”

“I am sure,” he said confidently.  He glanced over his shoulder at Tidus with a small smile.  “I have my real dream, now, and he is beautiful.”

*

Shinryu had given them all a fight they could hardly handle and barely won, and for a moment it had seemed the battle had done more harm than good, the world crumbling beneath their feet, the destruction from the dragon's raw power  for a moment appeared absolute.

But Materia and Spiritus did not die, and the warriors did not fade, and so the gods rebuilt the world from memories once again.

Their thoughts and emotions and memories were downloaded to the crystals.

It was a week after the hard battle with the godking of dragons that some of the warriors started to leave, and Firion made a request of Materia: that she should allow Tidus to retain his form even after leaving World B.  She obliged him, giving him a shard of the world’s heart and fastening it to a chain that Tidus was to keep around his neck at all times.

Together they passed through the portal and into Firon’s world.

In the distance, a group of Firion manikins watched them go.

*

Tidus and Firion put down their baskets of food and drink.  “A good spot, you think?” asked Tidus, surveying the grassy cliff that overlooked the ocean.  The sun was going to set sooner than he had anticipated.

“I do believe it is,” said Firion pleasantly, and together they unrolled the picnic blanket and laid it on the ground.

They unpacked the bread, cheese and cured meats, along with the grapes and plums and bottle of wine.  “We forgot the cups,” said Tidus with a rueful grin, sitting down with Firion on the blanket and taking a swig from the bottle.  “How heathen.”

Firion laughed and took the bottle from Tidus when he passed it over.  He took a sip.  “Only the gods shall judge us.”

“Oh is that all?” quipped Tidus, and they grinned at each other.

“You two better not have finished all the grog!” Jecht grumbled as he made his way over to them with mesh bag hanging from one hand.  Tidus rolled his eyes; he knew Jecht had brought more alcohol.

They scooted over on the blanket so Jecht could sit beside Tidus.  Firion gave him a low nod in greeting, which Jecht returned with a narrow-eyed look; it seemed Tidus’s father was not yet used to the knowledge that Firion was bedding his son every night, and perhaps he never would.

“You shouldn’t be drinking, old man,” said Tidus.  “Bad for your health.”

“I’ll give you bad for your health, you little shit,” said Jecht, punching Tidus in the shoulder, thereby making him lean sideways into Firion, where he stayed.

They bickered until the sun started to set in earnest, and then the three were quiet, taking in the lush red beauty of the sun seeming to melt into the sea.

Firion told Tidus quietly, “I remember well the moment I woke up at the beginning of the thirteenth cycle and saw your face.  It was like an angel was hovering over me.  Then you helped me up and saw my rose… hmmm… you called me Rosebud, then.”

Tidus turned his head and brushed his mouth against Firion’s shoulder.  “I remember,” he said.

End.

 

 

 


End file.
